


something twistin' something twisted

by seasonschange



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster Hunters, Van Helsing McCree aesthetic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonschange/pseuds/seasonschange
Summary: For the prompt: Nobody dared go near the tower. A fearsome dragon sat on its top. Until one day, a knight rode up. “Do you need help to get down?” “Please.” (originally @microsff’s tweet).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LostTheBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostTheBucky/gifts), [lcveurself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcveurself/gifts).



> This is from, like.... last Halloween. I kinda forgot about it until I was recently reminded I'm a lil s**t who can't update a thing. I mean where's the lie.  
> Small chapters are the key. I just gotta remember: small chapters.
> 
> I love fairy tales, goddammit. I love dragons. I love words. I miss the Halloween event banter.

* * *

At the break of dawn, before the songs of the early rising birds, McCree rose with a concert of grunts, packed up his tattered bedroll, and put back his dusty boots.

He stomped the embers of last night's fire, covering the dip in the ground with rubble and dirt until he'd concealed all traces of his camp.

Then he went to untie his horse at the nearby tree, patting Maggie’s cold flank and muttering promises of nice and warm barns, and all the hay, and all the apples she could stomach.

The lord who'd hired his services was rich, and kind enough to accommodate them for the duration of his contract. And McCree was going to take him up on that offer to sleep somewhere else than on the cold hard ground, or in one of the inns where you were guaranteed of getting your throat slit in your sleep, and all your coin and other earthly possessions 'requisitioned' by the innkeeper.

McCree had enough grisly encounters in shady inns under his belt to last a lifetime. For some goddamn reason, folks always expected him to travel with his weight in gold from all the rewards he'd reaped.

And they always recognized him on sight.

‘Twas the hat that gave it away, some said. Or the big crossbow, that was evidently one of a kind with its strange carvings on the stock, made specially for him by Nepalese monks.

But for all he knew, innocent adventurers were getting murdered all over the damned country in his stead, simply because some village idiot mistook them for the famous Jesse McCree, monster hunter.

If only they knew how easily he could make a sack of coins disappear. And not in the sense of some fancy magic trick.

Between the enchanted ammunition (since nothing else worked on magical creatures) and the gambling, there was little left to spare for any extra comfort. ‘Twas a miracle if he could scrape enough to afford a decent cigar once in awhile. He also had a mount to take care of, and she required more coins spent for feed and sturdy riding equipment. So he wasn’t about to mess up this opportunity for a generous income.

And there was the thrill of what had to be an important job, when someone named 'Lord Gabriel Vicente Reyes' was the man to personally send word and request his services.

So promptly after saddling the aforementioned horse, McCree stirred his mount back towards the main road and encouraged her into a lively trot, feeling fully awake now as the cool morning fog was starting to dissipate around them, and a bit of sunshine was peeking through the heavy clouds.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

“Well, damn. A whole dragon? You didn’t specify in your letter that your pest problem was that big.”

McCree searched for the rest of the cigar he’d put away for later, and leaned sideways, tipping his head towards one of Lord Reyes’ ostentatious candelabras to light the butt.

He knew better than to blow the smoke in the Lord’s face, but still the man didn’t seem very impressed by McCree’s poise, and even less so by the quality of his cigar, if the way he was looking at his hands with a disapproving frown and flaring nostrils was any indication.

From the other side of the ornate dining table, Lord Reyes uncrossed his arms. “I was under the impression you’re the best hunter in this country. If Jesse McCree can’t slay the monster, then nobody can, isn’t that how the saying goes? Here,” he added, pushing forward a narrow chest across the table, then prying it open with a small silver key to reveal a series of leather pouches filled with coins, “that’s the advance payment. Once the dragon is dead, you’ll be rewarded ten times this sum for your services. I trust this will cover it?”

McCree approached the table without breaking eye-contact with the Lord, and with a knowing smirk, he picked up one of the pouches and checked its contents.

His thick brow rose in surprise when the expected silver coins turned out to be gold.

“That’s’a… wow… now _that’s_ one hefty reward,” he finally declared, pocketing the pouch. By habit. “Guess I’d be a fool to decline, wouldn’t I? You got yourself a deal, Lord of the castle. For that amount of money, I’ll slay your dragon, and even bring you the tongue and tail if you so please.” He gestured around his own neck, suggesting what the Lord might do with the monstrous appendages.

“That won’t be necessary,” Lord Reyes’ reply was brisk and impersonal, McCree’s easy-going attitude sliding off him like smoke over a window. “Just get rid of the damned thing before I’ve lost the mine.”

At McCree’s curious look, the Lord beckoned him to his side, then led him to the grand map towering over the fireplace.

“This,” he pointed to the north of the map, where McCree guessed would be the outskirts of the village, “is the diamond mine. The land has been in my family for generations, but my grandfather was the one who discovered it. The mine has kept the villagers employed, and fed, for seventy years.”

“And made you rich,” McCree added, taking a drag from his cigar and blowing softly right next to the other man’s face.

Lord Reyes’ smile was polite, yet as insincere as nobility could be.

“Indeed. The village can’t afford losing the mine. I can’t afford losing the mine. But no worker dares approach the damn place ever since the dragon came.”

“The dragon’s in the mine? Is it… nesting there?”

Having faced such a beast only once before, the monster hunter wasn’t sure how much more difficult the task of killing a dragon would be if the thing was hiding in an underground maze.

“No. The dragon is over there.” Lord Reyes pointed at the outline of what looked like a tower, near the entrance of the mine. “It’s been there since last winter. And the miners are too terrified to dare approach it; and even less so, to get back to the mine.”

McCree finished his cigar and chucked the butt into the fireplace.

“I see.”

“I’m glad you understand. Now, get rid of it. The sooner, the better.”

With a tip of his hat, McCree took his payment and his leave.

“Wait.”

Lord Reyes’ steps were unnervingly quiet as he joined McCree at the doorway, just a soft rustle of silky pants, and the whisper of a cape.

McCree only had to slightly look up to be eye-level with the other man. However the sudden gravity of the Lord’s expression made him seem taller than that.

“You will encounter a man before you reach the tower. His name is ser Morrison. I need you to make sure he understands who you are and what you’ve been tasked to do. Tell him it’s no longer his duty to pretend he can do anything about our ‘intruder’, and to return at once.”

“You got a shortage of couriers, or something? If he’s one of your men, how does he not know I’m coming?”

Lord Reyes rubbed his forehead like a man desperately trying to get rid of a persistent headache. “I’ve tried contacting him, on multiple occasions. But his brand of reckless and stubborn is one of a kind.”

“Alright. Find your pal, send him back home. Got it.”

“That’s—he’s not—” the Lord groaned in annoyance, then made a dismissive gesture. “Just go, already.”

“You got it, boss.”

* * *

 


End file.
